


Steeping Senses

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Angst and Feels, Business, Canon Compliant, Caretaking, Caring, Carrying, Concern, Depression, Exhaustion, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, Intervention, Mid-Canon, Multiple Selves, Overworking, Platonic Cuddling, Prompt Fill, Rants, Recovery, Sleep Deprivation, Sleepiness, Sleepy Cuddles, Stressed Chase, Tumblr Prompt, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 08:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15882234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: Jameson has become accustomed to Chase taking care of whatever he needs. It's only fair that when Chase struggles to pull himself together after another bout with depression, Jameson ought to return the favor.





	Steeping Senses

It hadn’t escaped Jameson’s notice that Chase was working much longer hours than usual. His workday generally consisted of filming stunts for the morning and then spending the rest of his time at the office, editing with his crew. Sometimes the time for the stunt work ranged anywhere from five to seven hours, but after taking a break this past week for a particularly bad depressive spell, the vlogger was doing his best to catch up with his schedule and bring his viewers  _twice_  the amount of content to make up for his absence.

“You must get back into swing  _gradually_ , Chase!” Schneep warned sternly at breakfast. “It does not make sense to strain and exhaust yourself as soon as you’re back on your feet!”

Chase had simply offered him a rueful smile in return. “If I’m back on my feet, what else am I s’posed to be doing but making up for the time I wasn’t?” he’d questioned. Schneep had been too startled by the question to offer a response before Chase glanced at his watch and leapt up from the breakfast table. “Speaking of which, I’m gonna be late. Yesterday’s footage should be ready to upload today. See if you can watch ’em at some point and give me feedback, okay?”

Schneep seemed reluctant to do so, but Jameson was more than willing. He  _did_  watch them as they were uploaded and frankly…they concerned him a little. He had taken part in a few Bro Average videos himself; he knew how Chase acted when he was filming—rather, he knew how he was supposed to act. Did Chase realize how much of his usual drive and vigor were missing?

Jameson knew for certain that it wasn’t in his imagination when he checked the comments section.

_“Is it just me or does Chase look really tired?”_

_“He seems like he’s doing a lot really fast…”_

_“Hey mate, it’s ok that you took a break. We will wait for you!”_

_“If you ever need, or even just want a break, you don’t need our permission. You’re still human, dude.”_

When Chase got home that evening, uncharacteristically quiet and scrubbing at his eyes, Jameson asked him if he was feeling alright.

“Yeah, buddy, I’m fine,” he answered immediately, almost absentmindedly, as he fished around in the kitchen cupboards for his favorite coffee mug. “S’just been a long day.”

 **“Perhaps you should turn in,”**  Jameson suggested cautiously, hoping his apprehension wasn’t  _too_  transparent. Chase didn’t seem to notice it.

“Nope, can’t. Stanley said when I left that once I’d had some dinner he wanted to get on a conference call with me so we can discuss what we’re doing this weekend.” After he set up the coffee pot, Chase leaned against the counter to wait for it, his jaw working in a certain fashion that Jameson expected was to stifle a yawn. “Like I said, Jays, I’m fine.”

Coming out of his chair, Jameson shuffled closer, leaning past Chase’s arm and pointedly flipping the switch—the one Chase had taught him would actually turn the coffee pot  _on_. Chase seemed surprised for a moment at his obvious oversight but he offered no comment as the coffee grumbled. Jameson stayed with him, resisting the urge to wring his hands. This ought to be the time when Chase asked him about his day or told him an amusing story about a member of the camera crew, but instead they just…stood in silence.

When the coffee finished, Chase visibly bolstered himself, giving Jameson a tired smile as he took the mug from the counter—and the pot. As he started out of the room, Jameson blinked in disbelief, stepping forward enough to take ahold of his shoulder.

 **“Wait! Aren’t you—shouldn’t you be having a proper meal with that?”**  he questioned uncertainly.

“Ehh, I’m not really hungry. Just coffee’s fine,” Chase shrugged it off. “I’ll be in the computer room. Don’t wait up if you’re tired, okay? G’night.”

 **“Good…night…”**  Jameson murmured, not bothering to project his speech slide far enough for Chase to see as he left.

In the end, Jameson obediently went to bed. He didn’t wait up for Chase, but he did wake up the moment he felt the bedsprings creak. Jameson kept his eyes closed despite it, holding very still and listening intently for the sigh of relief at being horizontal at last. It didn’t come. After three minutes or so, JJ risked looking over his shoulder and found the other already asleep. He was like a candle, blown out as soon as his head touched the pillow.

The next morning was uncannily similar to the one before, as was the evening. It happened again the day after that and the day after that. The longer it went on, the more Jameson hated it and when he summoned his courage, he told Chase as much, but all he got was a regretful tousle to his hair.

“I’m sorry, Jem. I miss you during the day too,” he admitted. “Hey, text me around lunchtime, okay? I’ll try to say hi.”

Jameson did text him, but he never answered. He must have forgotten.

Nights progressively got harder to bear—not just because he found it hard to wait for him but because it was becoming increasingly difficult to  _stay_  with him. Jameson always had a fully furnished room of his own to turn to, but he knew his da wanted and needed him there. It was most likely a side effect of losing his marriage, but Chase naturally slept better when he had some company at night.

When he was warm and had someone to hold, he’d explained, he was calmed. He could lie still and sleep without any interruptions. Lately, however, to Jameson’s dismay, that didn’t seem to be the case. With increasing frequency the gentleman found himself jostled awake when a stray elbow ended up lodged in his back or their feet got tangled up. Chase tossed and turned much more than he used to.

This morning, he didn’t even take the time to finish his breakfast, wrapping what was left of his pop-tart in a napkin and jamming it in his back pocket.

“You’re not staying?” Jackieboy didn’t seem particularly surprised, but Chase didn’t seem to notice how troubled the hero’s eyes were as they tracked his progress.

“I  _can’t_  stay,” Chase said shortly, barely glancing at him as he slapped his cap on his head and heaved a backpack of supplies onto his shoulder, stumbling a little under its weight before he adjusted. “I don’t know when I’m gonna be back; I’ll see you later.”

As soon as the front door closed behind him, Jackieboy exhaled slowly, shaking his head. Schneep was already drumming his fingers against the edge of his coffee mug and Marvin was practically vibrating with tension.

 **“I’m worried for him,”**  Jameson blurted out.

“We all are,” Jackie assured him grimly.

“It’s been more than this last week now,” Schneep huffed, taking a resigned sip of the little coffee Chase had left in the pot. “He is not like Jackie and I, he is not like Jack, he doesn’t cope with late night work—not  _well_ , at least.”

 **“I’m a right testament to that,”**  Jameson agreed, gingerly rubbing the sore shoulder that had received a particularly harsh elbow last night.  **“But…bebother it, what can we do to convince him to stop?”**

“I’ll hold him down for a nap if I have to,” Marvin muttered agitatedly. “If he keeps doing this, he’ll just end up right back in his slump, and trashing himself like this is gonna make it a  _lot_  harder to get back out.”

Those words gnawed at Jameson for hours on end; the worry was all-encompassing. He could barely focus on his own daily activities. He didn’t want to see him fall, not again, not so soon. When Chase had a run of his better days, he was one of the happiest, most upbeat and enthusiastic people Jameson knew. He  _loved_  life. Watching him when he was bedridden, never speaking, barely eating…it was like looking at an entirely different person, a numb, hopeless little thing that had been torn from Chase’s body like Peter Pan’s shadow.

The shadows under Chase’s eyes were disconcertingly deep now, Jameson noted, swallowing hard and tightening the fold of his hands as he waited. Chase didn’t seem to notice he was there at first, nearly jumping out of his skin when he finally did see him at the dining table.

“Whoa! Jem!” Cursing under his breath, he pressed a hand against his chest, taking a steadying breath as he swayed back. “What’re you doing up? You should be in bed by now, right?”

 **“I wanted to stay up for you,”**  Jameson answered, trying for a smile before allowing for a pause.  **“Oh, but what time is it?”**

As he made a show of patting himself down, looking for his pocket watch, he peeked up at Chase every so often, his chest tightening. The older Ego had stopped paying attention to him already, tossing his backpack aside and trudging toward the kitchen cabinet. He was probably going to get more of that blasted coffee.

 **“Good golly! It’s far later than I thought!”**  he exclaimed, projecting his speech slide in front of the cabinet doors.  **“Now that you’re home, perhaps we should _both_  retire!”**

“I can’t,” Chase brushed that off predictably. Jameson was starting to hate those two words. “Something went wrong with the file on today’s third video; I need to wrangle that into shape after I’ve had some dinner.”

Jameson hadn’t seen him actually sit down and eat a full night meal for a few days now. He was distracted from bringing that up, however, as he happened to glance down and spot the edge of the napkin peeking out of Chase’s pocket. Astonished, he rose, crossing the distance in three long strides to snatch at it, causing the older Ego to lurch away.  

“Hey, what’re you—?”

 **“After you’ve had supper?”**  Jameson echoed incredulously, waving the folded napkin and its mashed, crumbling contents.  **“Why, you’ve still got your _breakfast_  to eat! Did you have sustenance of  _any_ sort today?”**

“Well, yeah. There was half a donut on the counter at the office,” Chase protested.

 **“Do you recall picking it up and eating it?”**  Jameson persisted, tossing the mess onto the counter and planting his hands on his hips expectantly. Chase’s hesitation went on for a few seconds too long. Eyes narrowing, Jameson closed the rest of the distance, interlacing his arm with Chase’s and marching toward the couch.  **“Plant yourself here right this instant, sir! You’re taking a night off and that’s that!”**

Groaning, Chase pulled against his grip, making all the same objections he had the previous several nights. “You don’t understand, Jem. I’ve got another conference call I need to make. All I need is a little coffee and I’ll be set. You shouldn’t try to stay up when all I’m gonna be doing is work—”

 **“I’m not staying up for my sake, Chase! It’s not because I miss you or I’m sad I don’t get to see you; I’m _worried!_  Why do you think I’m enforcing this?”** Jameson snapped.  **“The only reason you’ve stopped dashing about like a madman for the past few days is because you’re too exhausted to dash! Now you’re _stumbling_  about like a—a—”** He couldn’t find a proper metaphor, steering Chase onto the couch and then planting himself next to him, wordlessly simmering.

“Jameson,” Chase began slowly—and he’d used his full name, which meant he was  _finally_  paying full attention to him—“All I want is to make up for lost time.”

 **“You’ve done _more_  than enough. It’s a sorry excuse for battering yourself like this for more than a week,”** the younger Ego shot back with a glower.

“Okay, then,” Chase conceded, his voice falling lower. “I want to make up for the time all of you had to spend taking care of me.”

**“Well, think of it this way: we’ll have to take care of you quite a while longer if you bring yourself to harm by overworking!”**

Chase didn’t answer right away; it seemed as if it was taking him a while to process the words. “I just…need to jump back into things when I come out of one of my downs,” he muttered restively, looking anywhere but at his companion. “Or I’ll start  _thinking_  about things…how much worse I make things for all of you by having these bad days…Hating myself for ’em more than I already do.”

**“…Da.”**

“Yeah?”

Sliding his legs up onto the couch in front of him, Jameson leaned, wrapping his arms tightly around Chase’s chest and curling close to him.  **“The only way you could possibly worsen _anything_  for me is by punishing yourself.”**

Now that he was looking at him this closely, Jameson could  _really_ see the exhaustion—the stress creases and the stray stubble and the glaze in his eyes that didn’t belong. It created an ache in his chest that encouraged him to tighten his grip, his fingers digging into Chase’s ribs in an attempt to force him closer.

After a full minute, Chase relented, relaxing into his hold and heaving a breath that ruffled Jameson’s hair before looping his nearer arm around his back. Taking that as progress, Jameson weighed further into him, getting comfortable, and Chase huffed softly.

“Are you sure you didn’t miss me?”

**“Are you sure you didn’t miss me more?”**

“Yeah, I did…” Despite the several cups of coffee he’d downed during the day, Chase could feel another yawn lurking. He didn’t bother stifling it this time, blinking tiredly as he pressed his cheek against the curve of his boy’s shoulder. His head didn’t want to stay upright anymore. “S’being all cuddly part of your plan t’make sure I take the night off?”

**“Yes.”**

“Gotcha…”

There was no need to elaborate on the rest of the plan; it was already in motion. Chase’s eyes were flickering closed, his breaths evening out startlingly fast, and Jameson stilled, waiting until the arm around his back slid limply down against the cushions.

Forty seconds. All it had taken was forty seconds without pushing himself to keep going. Reaching back, Jameson took ahold of his fallen hand, maneuvering it around his neck and tightening the grip he had around his waist. The fact that Chase wasn’t holding his own weight as Jameson pulled on him made standing a struggle; he was a little surprised that he didn’t jolt awake again as soon as Jameson readjusted his grip, but it was a testament to just how exhausted he was.

After a precarious, wobbling journey down the dim hallway, Chase’s bed was a more than welcome sight. Jameson let Chase’s arm fall from his shoulders, hugging him carefully around the chest until he could steer him down properly. From there the gentleman began working on untying his boots. Chase did stir somewhat then, twisting onto his side and allowing his hand to fall into the empty space beside him, as if he’d expected something to be there.

 **“I’m coming,”**  Jameson assured him kindly, though he knew he wasn’t heard.

As soon as he’d pried his boots off and set them aside, he didn’t hesitate to burrow underneath the covers and fill the space, allowing the other to shift his arm however he cared to in his sleep. Sure enough, Chase’s fingers automatically found the back of his nightshirt, curling loosely into it to keep him where he was. As he leaned into the touch, Jameson stilled, straining his ears. He had to hear it. None of this would feel quite as right as it ought to without it.

After a few more seconds, he could feel the last of the tension drain from Chase’s body in the deep, drowsy sigh he’d been waiting for. Relief. Comfort. Jameson was allowed his own breath of relief because of it, nestling close against him so the steady, warm thump of his heart could lull him down slowly.  

He had a delightfully contented feeling that they would be sleeping in tomorrow morning.

**Author's Note:**

> These two are good for each other <3


End file.
